


The Merc & the Songbird

by SpinoGuy



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst and Humor, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpinoGuy/pseuds/SpinoGuy
Summary: Deadpool is the fun, wisecracking, goofball, right? That's the facade, at the least. When that's ripped away, he's little more than a sad, pathetic man. But maybe, every once in a while, there comes a person who can pull a guy like him out of the pit he's carved out for himself. Is this his chance? Or will Wade Wilson disappear into the charade he's created?
Relationships: Deadpool/Siryn, Theresa Cassidy/Wade Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. An Average Job

_Guns?_

"Check."

**Bullets?**

"Check."

_Katanas?_

"Double check."

The red and black figure looking like he was trying to cosplay Spider-Man and failing miserably, Deadpool, sat crouched on the rooftop across a Roxxon Energy Corporation building. It was dark outside, about 2:00 AM if he had to guess. Which made it all the stranger that there was a meeting going on inside the building.

_So what's the plan?_

**This again?**

_What?_

**Have you already forgotten the plan?**

_Of course not. It's for his benefit._

"Oh, don't you go pinning this on me," Deadpool told the voice in his head. "I remember the plan perfectly. We take this here grappling hook,"—he gestured to the duffel bag next to him— "fire it into the Roxxon building, slide across like Nathan Drake, and then burst through that window there."

He pointed to a fifteenth story window.

"After that, we infiltrate out way sneakily into the place, bust into the meeting, and kill all the dudes there. Yeah?"

**Exactly.**

_Ooooh, that's a good plan. I like that plan._

**Just one problem** _._

_What's that?_

"What's that?"

**That window you just pointed to is twenty feet above us. At best we can swing across and climb up.**

"Damn," Deadpool muttered. "I was hoping to make this a dramatic entrance." He picked up the grappling launcher and aimed it at the window. "To hell with it. If Spider-Man can do it, so can I."

**To be fair, Spider-Man is able to stick to walls.**

_So can we if we use a knife._

"Hush, my children," Deadpool chided lightly. "You're ruining the moment." He pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil at the hook fired out into the next building. It latched on solidly. He gave a few tugs before nodding in satisfaction.

He shifted his stance, took a few steps back, and started performing some light stretches. "Stretching is important, after all," he reminded his inner voices. "Especially when performing feats of amazing strength."

**More like feats of stupidity. How do you know that's even going to hold?**

"C'mon, at worst, I'll fall and break all of my bones, heal, and then go through the front door, stealth be damned."

_And at best, you eat your own words!_

"What he said," Deadpool said. After one last stretch of the shoulders, he took a few more steps back. Then, he broke out into a full on sprint, grapnel hook in hand. He performed a picture perfect dive off the building. "Tally ho!" he shouted.

He fell a bit before the line went taut, and started swinging towards the building.

_We're flying! We're really-!_

Deadpool smacked face first into the bulding, forming a small, but noticeable Deadpool-shaped indentation in the wall. "Ow," he let out in a small voice.

**What did you expect?**

"Shut up," Deadpool replied. Fortunately for him, he was still gripping the grapnel gun with an iron grip and the hook itself hadn't dislodged.

With effort, he looked up at the hook, and gave a small laugh of triumph. "Told you it would hold." He pushed himself off the wall before righting planting his feet against it. He held on tight, fighting the force of gravity.

"Jesus," he said, wobbling like a madman. "How the hell did Batman do this?"

_It was the 60's, man. You remember how it was back then. Less Kevlar body armor and more spandex._

**Ah, a simpler time.**

"Can't say I do," Deadpool replied with some effort, taking a few steps up the wall. "I can't really remember anything before 1991."

_Ugh, don't remind me._

**So, one last time, what's the target?**

"Guy by the name of Hugh Jones," Deadpool stated. "Apparently he's the CEO of ol' Roxxon here. Some bidding war or some shit, I don't know. Honestly, I don't give a shit. I've been paid, so he's going to die."

 **That's fair**.

_Hey, do you think this contractor will actually let us keep the money? The last guy wasn't so forthcoming. What was his name? Aaron Vault?_

**Adrian To—How the hell did you confuse Adrian Toombs for Aaron Vault, they sound nothing alike!**

"'Toombs', 'Coffin', 'Vault', doesn't really matter what the bastard's name was," Deadpool called out. He was still a fair distance away from his destination. "That Vault guy got what was coming to him."

**Yeah, cancer.**

_Too bad he didn't have a sick healing factor like us._

"Too true. Also, y'know, would've helped with the bullet I put in his head. Do you think Spidey will be mad I capped one of his big bads?"

**Please, Vulture is C-tier at best.**

_I don't know, I think Batman raised his stock when he took a shot at playing him_ **.**

**Raising a grade from a C to a B, I suppose. Still, I think calling him one of Spider-Man's "big bads" is giving him far too much credit.**

_Hey, speaking of employers, who gave us this job again?_

"Focus people!" Deadpool called out. He stopped at the window just below the grappling hook. He took a quick peek inside. "We're here."

While still gripping the gun with one hand, he reached down and pulled out a pistol. He smashed it against the window. The window shattered on impact.

"Sweet," Deadpool proclaimed, holding up his pistol in victory. He put on a mock hero voice and said, "Come, my companions! We must vanquish the dastardly Hugh Jones!"

_Do you think readers remember Hugh Jones? It's a pretty deep pull._

**He was in** _**Marvel's Agent Carter** _ **, that should be good enough.**

He climbed into the window. Surprisingly, the building seemed light on security. Funny, since there was a pretty important meeting taking place only a few floors above. Deadpool checked his watch. "Making pretty good time," he said. He looked up at the ceiling. "So, we got a few stories left. Fully loaded, looking stylish, and reading to make the chimi-fucking-changa."

* * *

Above, Hugh Jones, CEO of Roxxon, was currently addressing a group of suited men, all looking mostly identical baring some hair color differences. Jones was an older man, his gray hair had been parted down the middle, the wrinkles across his skin gave him a weary look, and his nicely pressed three piece gray suit looked as uncomfortable as it felt. Along the room, there were armed security guards, two on either side of the door, and six more scattered along the walls. He pointed to a graph. It had a squiggly arrow going up, but no real markings to represent what it actually meant.

"Gentlemen," he announced, "As you can see, profits are going through the roof. We are on track at the moment to exceed the record we set last year. Of course, we could increase our record by cutting our employee's salaries and increasing workload."

He was interrupted by a gentle knocking on the door. All the men looked between each other.

"Are we missing one?" one of the suits asked.

"Is Jerry here?"

"Yeah, I'm here, I brought you that bagel!"

Hugh motioned the two guards at the door. "Deal with that please."

The guard on the right nodded, pulled out his gun and reached for the door knob. Before he got there, though, it was suddenly kicked open. The force was enough to send the two guards sprawling to the floor.

Deadpool stepped in and observed the scene before him. "I've come to kill you and talk about our renewable energy. And I can't seem to find the renewable energy."

"Get him!" Jones shouted. The two guys knocked onto the floor, but the merc quickly whipped out his gun and fired two bullets into their heads. The room froze.

For an instant no one spoke. "If no one wants to die," he said, "then I'd recommend skedaddling."

All of the suits filed out, but none of the guards moved. For his part, Jones attempted to leave, but Deadpool fired a bullet at his feet. "Not you," he said. "You're worth a lot of money."

_As much as a 4K, easily._

**Or, at the very least, a decent cleaning.**

"Kill him!"

Deadpool expertly avoided the gunfire, rapidly tearing through the board room of the guards. He sliced the head off one before kicking it into another. He emptied the clip of one of his pistols into another guard, before picking taking out of his swords and throwing it at the next guard. It spun in the air and the handles smashed into his skull, but Deadpool followed up with maneuvering around the man, gripping him around the waist, lifting him up, and falling backwards.

The man crashed into the glass table along with Deadpool, shards of the glass embedding themselves into both.

**SUPLEX** _CITY!_

Deadpool was able to pulled out the large shard embedding in his chest and ignore the rest. The other guy didn't. With only two left, he pulled out his last sword, he avoid a few more bullet before slicing off a foot and a hand on one guy and decapitating the other. He let the two corpses fall as he stood up to his full height and turned his head towards Jones.

"You know, for being the world's most powerful CEO, you got shit for security."

The CEO had barely moved. He was now just a quivering mess, terrified of what was about to happen. "W-Who sent you?" he asked. "Was it Osborn? Look, you tell him I will get his money, I swear!"

"If I see him, I'll relay the message," Deadpool replied. "But no, it wasn't Normie. I don't actually know who put the hit out on you. And, honestly? I don't really give a shit. I'm getting paid either way."

"What if I double the pay?" Jones pleaded. "No, triple! I'll give you triple what whoever is paying you to spare me! I'll throw in more if you track him down and kill him instead!"

That gave Deadpool pause. He held up a finger. "Moment. I need to deliberate." He turned around. "Well, gentlemen?" Jones could only blink in confusion.

**Triple the money is a pretty good deal…**

_Just think of all the stuff we could buy! To hell with the 4K TV, we could get a 16K TV!_

"I like the way you think," Deadpool commented with a smile.

From Hugh Jones' perspective, it looked like a lunatic talking to himself. He wasn't far off, truthfully.

**Still…**

_Yeah, fair point…_

"Alright, I've made my decision!"

Hugh Jones looked hopeful. "You have?"

"Yep! I've decided I'm going to take that guy's dismembered head over there, and shove it up your ass."

The hope was quickly replaced with fear.

Down on the streets, a few bystanders looked up at the building as they could've sworn they heard someone screaming. It was only a passing interest, however, as most quickly disregarded it and moved on.

Deadpool walked out the room, scrolling through his phone of the pictures he took.

_Man, I can't believe you actually did it!_

**I agree. I could've sworn the head would burst before you actually got it in the rectum.**

"What can I say?" Deadpool shrugged. "It's all in the wrist." He sent the photos and immediately got the money deposited into his bank account. "Sweet. Alright, boys, there's a good taco truck down this way that just makes the best hard shells."

**I prefer soft shell myself.**

"That's a burrito, not a taco," Deadpool chided, making his way to the elevator. "I enjoy a burrito as much as anyone else, but let's not call things what they aren't."

* * *

Far away, in the shadows, a man reached into his pocket to pull out the phone. He looked at the notification he had just received. "That's a good boy," he said, referring to Deadpool. "Just as expected."

The hit on Hugh Jones had gone of flawlessly. Jones himself had meant nothing to the man. All he was was a trial run, to test the mercenary's skill. The man's real plan, his true goal, was incredibly far reaching, much further than Deadpool could possibly comprehend.

"You'll get yours, Deadpool," he said with a crooked smile. "Just you wait."

* * *

A few hours later, Deadpool was sitting in his one bedroom apartment. Trash was littered throughout the place. There was what one could charitably call a path from the front door to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, respectively. Pizza boxes, soft drink cups, all forms of fast food containers were simply icing on the cake when it came to this harrowing display.

The only piece of furniture was a lone chair, sitting across from an old, tube TV. Despite the money in Deadpool's account, he never upgraded, never bought anything more than junk food, and simply sat here.

After wolfing down the last taco, he let out a loud belch.

"Ratings, judges?"

_Nine!_

**I'd say a six. The technique is lacking a little something.**

"Eh, everyone's a critic," Deadpool said, waving away the criticism. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "You guys ready to try again?"

_Always!_

**Of course.**

"Alright."

He pulled the mask all the way off. From his position, he looked to the left and could see his reflection and frowned. What stared back at him was a man covered in scaring, disfiguration, and rashes. There was no hair on his head, and his eye sockets were sunken in.

The eyes themselves had glazed over considerably, giving the illusion that he may be blind, but really he had perfect vision. Deadpool got up and walked towards the mirror. He leaned against the sink and brought his face closer to the mirror.

Beneath the surface, his rage was reaching a boiling point. "Look at you," he said. "You'd be better off dead."

He pulled out his pistol, placed it under his chin, and pulled the trigger. Gunfire went off. He fell to the floor backwards, the blood splatter covering the walls. All was silent for a few moments before Deadpool gasped and sat straight up. He doubled over and vomited out some blood as the wound was beginning to rapidly heal.

Deadpool was the result of a failed experiment. It was meant to replicate the healing factor of Wolverine. In Deadpool's case, he signed up for it when he was diagnosed with cancer. Because of this, his healing factor was so powerful, that if it were to be put into a healthy individual, they would just keep healing things they didn't need to heal.

"Fuck," he muttered, putting the gun away. For the moment, the voices were gone. He was able to just sit there and think his own thoughts. It's not like he didn't like those guys, far from it. In actuality, they were incredibly fun to hang out with. But they were always there, always present. It was nice when they were quiet every once in a while.

"Oh, well," he sighed. "Made it through another day, I guess."

He got up and stumbled to his bedroom. All along the walls were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tallies. He walked over to a corner, took out a knife, and carved another tally. He didn't bother to put the knife away, he just let it fall to the floor.

Finally, he walked over to his deflated mattress, and held his knees to his chest. They would be back soon. For now, though, he just let the sobs come.

He didn't know how much longer he could take it.


	2. The Next Job

Theresa Maeve Rourke Cassidy loved to fly, feeling her long, red hair flowing in the wind.

She has ever since she gained her mutant abilities. When she joined the X-Men at the age of seventeen and met her father, Sean Cassidy, all she could do was produce a sonic scream. Now, another decade on, she had gained even more abilities, such as the ability to fly, use sonar, and a few other tricks.

She had been taken from her father at a young age, raised by her uncle, Tom Cassidy. Tom was not a good man, and he would often be gone for "jobs", as he called them, but he protected Theresa, his little Songbird. He died when she was fifteen, protecting her from a mutant hating mob. She had developed her powers the year earlier, protecting herself form a deal that Tom had that went bad.

She moved around on her own for a few years before a chance meeting with Spider-Woman of all people. From there, through a series of events, she was brought into the fold of the X-Men. She was always grateful to Professor Xavier and the chance she was given. From there, she met her father, and he began to help her hone her mutant abilities. He even bestowed the name "Siryn" unto her.

Shortly after, however, her father also perished. She never was quite clear on the details. All she knew was that he was sent on a dangerous mission alone and didn't come back. He succeeded, whatever comfort that gave, but had to give his life.

That will be six years ago next week.

Sean had taught her flight within a year. And she never stopped. Whenever she needed to clear her head, she always flew away for the nearby mountains. She had a cave she would always go to to sit and watch the activity of the forest. It was nice.

She was actually on her way there right now when her communicator buzzed. " _Siryn_ ," the voice of Scott Summers, leader of the X-Men, called out.

"Siryn here," she replied, setting down on the ground. "What's the problem?"

" _We got word of a mutant causing some trouble near your location,"_ Scott said. _"Mostly petty thefts, but some medical equipment has also been stolen. You'll have to go there and investigate. See what you can find. If this mutant needs help, I want you to bring him here. If he's a threat that can't be talked down, still bring him here. We'll slap them with a nullifier and hand him over to the authorities."_

"Why me alone?" she asked. "I feel like something like this should be done with a team."

" _Normally you'd be right, but there's some trouble brewing here in Genosha. We need all the hands we got here. Besides, I'm confident you can handle it."_

"Okay," Siryn replied, not too sure of herself. She'd never been given a solo mission before. "So, is there a more precise location? And any other information on the mutant himself?"

" _Somewhere located in Alphabet City,"_ Scott reported. _"Unfortunately, that's the only pattern to his appearances. As for information, we don't even know if he actually is a mutant. He's certainly superhuman, but that doesn't necessarily mean mutant. Even if he isn't, if you feel you're capable of putting him away, do so."_

Siryn raised an eyebrow. "And if he isn't a threat, and just needs help?"

Scott went quiet for a second. _"He'll have to help himself. If he isn't a mutant, it's not within our responsibilities. I'll need you to report back to Genosha immediately."_

Siryn couldn't help but grimace. Compared to the Professor, Scott was much colder and more pragmatic. If a thing didn't give him an advantage, or it wasn't within a specific rule, he wouldn't act. Technically, no, they weren't responsible for non-mutant superpowered people. But that hardly meant it felt right leaving a lost soul behind. Still, orders were orders…

"Understood," she replied. "I'll head over as soon as I can. Alphabet City, you said?"

" _That's right. And good luck. New York is crawling with danger._ " With that, Scott killed the communication.

Letting out a deep sigh, Siryn looked to the sky. Her first solo mission. It can't end the same way her father's did. It's just a reconnaissance mission after all. Probably won't be any action.

* * *

In the shadows the man waited patiently as his guest threw his tantrum.

"Ye told me ye could fix me!" the guest shouted in a thick Irish accent. While the man in shadow was obscured from view, the guest was in the light. His shoulder length black hair was ragged and matted, and he only wore a torn up white shirt and black pants. The most striking feature of him were the root-like veins bulging out of his skin. Each fingertip ended in a razer sharp claw.

Between the two was a table, with the money and medical equipment stacked on it. The guest slammed his fists down. "Ye will fix me!"

"Calm yourself, Tom," the man replied. "I can fix you, but the tools you've given to me simply aren't enough. They are helpful, yes, but we need more. We need _him_."

Tom, the guest, took a few deep breaths. When he spoke, there was still anger behind it. "Alright. Alright."

"I won't let you die, Tom, you're far too important," the man said. He put his fingertips together in thought. "We are close, though. All we need is a sizable sample of the subject. I can use that to halt the virus in you."

"Fine," Tom hissed out. "So, we need the failure. I can get 'im fer ya'. How much would I need?"

"Theoretically, not much," the man replied. "But the more of the subject you get, the better." A small smirk played across his lips. "I imagine you're just itching to get back at him, anyway."

"Fer sure, _boyo_ ," Tom replied. "Deadpool and I go way back. And I have a score t' settle."

"Go. Find him," the man said. "Once you get the sample, then we'll be able to start your treatment."

* * *

Meanwhile, across Alphabet City, Deadpool was awoken by his phone. He was face down on his pillow, laying in a puddle of his drool. Letting out a small groan, he reached over and saw it was an unlisted number.

_Do you think it's a job?_

**Of course it's a job, who else would it be? Weasel and Bob are still mad at us.**

"Hey, guys," Deadpool greeted tiredly. "How was your little break?"

_It was fine. Ended too soon. Hey, I have an idea!_

"No, we're not trying again," Deadpool immediately bit out. "Once a day. You know this."

**Besides, we should probably see the job we're being offered.**

He let out a harrumph, and answered the phone. He let out a muffled, "Hello?"

" _Mr. Deadpool. I'm pleased that the job went well."_

"Oh, it's you." It was the same employer for the job the night before. "Yeah, not a hitch in sight. So, you got a new job for me?"

" _Of course. An old acquaintance of yours has been causing me a bit of trouble lately. He's been spotted in Alphabet City recently, stirring up some chaos for my businesses. I would like you to take him out."_

"'An old acquaintance', you say?" Deadpool repeated. He got to his feet and walked over to his discarded mask from last night. Picking it up, he shook it to clean off any dirt from it. "So, is this an ol' drinkin' bud of mine? Is it Vic?"

" _No. It's Black Tom."_

"Tom…" Deadpool stood still. The hand holding his mask began shaking.

_You okay?_

**Breathe. We'll take him down this time.**

"Yeah…" Deadpool pulled his mask over his face. Immediately his demeanor brightened. He stood up straighter, put a hand on his hips, and happily said, "The Tomster! He's alive? And in the city? To think, that piece of shit never even once thought to meet up and have a beer with his ol' pal, Deadpool!"

" _Yes, how inconsiderate of him,"_ the man replied dryly. _"Unfortunately, I don't have a precise location. This will require some investigative work on your part. I apologize I can't be of more help._ "

"Hey, I have to earn my money somehow." He shrugged. "Besides, it might be fun! I haven't had to go all detective since that one job in Jacksonville."

_Man, that job was off the hook! Ooh, you think Bob's wife still makes that tuna casserole?_

**Not sure, but they'll never let us back into that TGI Friday's. It's a shame. They had some good food.**

"Anyway, what's the pay? There's this yacht I'm looking at, and I've almost put enough away in my little piggy bank."

" _Ten million,"_ the man replied.

"T-ten million?! I could actually buy a yacht! Man, Tom must've royally pissed you off, huh?"

" _I am a man who holds many grudges, Mr. Deadpool, I assure you, and he has cost me dearly. Yes, he has 'royally pissed me off', as you so eloquently put it."_ There was certainly an anger behind the man's voice, Deadpool noted to himself.

Tom never was a very personable fellow, after all. He had made a lot of enemies. And if he was in Alphabet City causing trouble, where Deadpool just so happened to live, then there had to be a connection.

_Damn right there is! We have to figure it out! C'mon, we have to think!_

**We? You mean me, right?**

_Of course! We both know I don't do well with the think good._

**That is the most right you've ever been.**

" _Mr. Deadpool?"_ the man asked. _"Do we have a deal?"_

Deadpool thought for another minute. It's been years since he's seen Black Tom, since long before he got his makeover. And the things they did together still gave him nightmares. But Tom, taking things just too far, going that little bit extra past the line…

"Don't you worry your smooth, buttery voice," Deadpool replied. "I'll get the Tomster for you. I'll mail his head in a box if it pleases you."

" _That… won't be necessary, but I appreciate your enthusiasm for the job. It gives me confidence."_

"No problemo. He'll be dead. It's been a long time coming. I'll hit you up when he's done."

" _Make me proud, Mr. Deadpool._ "

WIth that, Deadpool hung up and began putting on the rest of his costume. He left aside the twin katanas, but strapped his gun belt around his waist, sliding the knife into his foot holster, and grabbed his tan trench coat and fedora.

_Ooooh, our undercover gear. Does that mean we're hitting up the Bar with No Name?_

**They don't let us in there either. We and Bullseye trashed it last time.**

"What's a little light rough housing among friends?" Deadpool asked.

**You sent the Shocker to the hospital.**

"I fail to see the issue."

**He was there for three weeks!**

"Still not working."

Deadpool threw on his coat, doing a pitiful job covering his costume, but decent enough at covering his weapons, not that anyone wouldn't already guess they were there. He put the fedora on his head, only barely obscuring his mask.

"Alright, we'll do a Sherlock Holmes for a little bit, then hit up a Mexican place. Sound good?"

_Sounds good._

**Works for me.**

Deadpool grabbed some money and headed out the door.

* * *

Elsewhere, Siryn stopped and hovered in place over New York City. It was a massive place, she thought to herself. Far larger than where she grew up with her uncle, she remembered being awestruck the first time she laid eyes on it as a child.

The city lights and noises were like nothing that she had ever seen. She would never have admitted this to her uncle at the time, but she clung to him like glue for the few weeks of their visit. The visit turned into a permanent stay, as Tom started getting more and more jobs in America, so they settled into a place in New York. That would end up killing him in the end, but for the first few years they were here, there was almost peace.

Whenever she stopped by the city, she made sure to just hover over it for a few minutes. It made her smile.

But business had to be done.

She was looking for a mutant, although she wasn't really sure where she should start beyond Alphabet City. It was entirely possible that the mutant wasn't even in the district anymore. Sure, it was a sizable chunk, but hardly the only one. Still, she had to start somewhere. And it would probably be easier to get information when not dressed like an X-Men.

There was a hidden stache here that the X-Men used whenever they were in New York. Sometimes they had to go undercover at short notice, and they didn't have a spare set of clothes. There should be some there. She made her way as her heart suddenly grew heavier.

Strange, she thought to herself. Why did she suddenly get a strange feeling about the mission?

* * *

A man was sent against the wall, followed up by a punch to the stomach.

"Hello, Enrique," Deadpool greeted chipperly.

It had taken a few hours hunting down Enrique, a well known information dealer across the Big Apple. Behind the two, a group of ten men, all looking in their early twenties, lay on the ground. Each of them were knocked out cold. "I'm looking for someone. A little birdie told me you might know where he is."

"Man, I don't know nothin'!"

"You know, they always say that," the merc said, stepping a bit closer. "That you don't know nothin'. You know what that means, right? You have to know something. Aren't double negatives a beautiful thing? And I'm willing to bet, if I squeeze you like a lemon, the sweet lemonade of truth will pour out of you."

Enrique's eyes widened. He began to desperately look around, but Deadpool threw a knife into his shoulder. He let out a pained scream, but the merc grabbed his face and forced him to look at Deadpool.

"Y'see, I'm looking for Black Tom." Deadpool waited a second. "Nod if you've heard of the man."

Slowly, Enrique did give a nod.

"Good. And I'm willing to be, you being as forthcoming as you are about information, he paid you a visit."

Another nod.

"Wonderful. So, you're going to tell me everything you know about Tom and then I'm going to get you to a hospital to get this-" He flicked the knife handle, causing a cry of pain from Enrique "-looked at, yeah?"

He nodded again. Deadpool let go of his mouth, and waited as Enrique sobbed for a moment. Tapping his foot, the merc looked to his watch, giving a visual indicator that he was waiting.

"Tom's… he's, uh, well…" Enrique glanced past him. "He's right over there."

Deadpool raised an eyebrow before immediately ducking away. A powerful concussive blast slammed into Enrique, blowing a whole straight through him. As he slumped to the ground dead, Deadpool turned around and came face to face with a face he hadn't seen for a long time.

"Tom," he greeted.

"Deadpool, me boy," Black Tom greeted in return, lowering his smoking hand. "It's been a dog's age. How've ye been?"

"Pretty good. How're the tree veins?"

"Oh, you know." Tom grinned. "Only hurts when I breathe."

The two stood across from each other silently. "Okay," Deadpool breathed out. "I'm going to kill you now."

Tom flexed his clawed fingers. "I know ye'll try."


	3. A Chance Meeting

Siryn hadn't a clue where to look.

She had ditched her "X" duds for a pair of dress pants, a button-white shirt, a black leather jacket, and a green scarf. That last one was incredibly stereotypically Irish, but she couldn't help but love the color green. Always had as a small girl. But that was neither here nor there.

Now, she was roaming the streets. She had already checked out the couple spots the mutant had hit, but they hadn't left much of a trace she could follow. There was certainly some collateral damage, some rubble left over here or there, but nothing concrete that she could trace back. She noted some blast damage, and a couple blood splatters. No deaths had been reported, according to the report Cyclops had sent her, but there were some minor injuries.

It had been a couple hours since she'd landed in the city and changed clothes. She blended right in for the most part, although a group of kids saw her land in her uniform. They rushed to their mothers, who proceeded to brush off their discovery. It made Theresa giggle when she saw their downcast faces.

She had stopped off at one of the food trucks and had ordered a burrito. She had developed a liking to Mexican food since she had moved to New York when she was a small child, and it wasn't a smart idea to work on an empty stomach. Or, a completely empty stomach, anyway.

Just as she was finishing it, she heard what sounded like an explosion. She was immediately caught off guard, spinning to where it sounded like it came from. It wasn't too close, but she could get there fast enough.

Another bang. And now some gunshots? The hell was going on over there?

She offhandedly tossed the rest of her meal in the trash as she shot up into the air and made off to investigate.

* * *

Deadpool tackled Tom to the ground, delivering a few solid blows before he was knocked off with a kick. The Irishman pointed a finger at the merc, letting out a concussive blast. It slammed into Deadpool, sending him back into the wall. He shook off the effects, reached down and pulled out a knife.

"What, didn't bring ye swords?" Tom mocked, chuckling slightly.

Deadpool cracked his neck. "Won't need 'em. Besides, I like getting up close and personal!"

He made a few swipes at Tom, just narrowly missing. For his part, the mutant returned the efforts with a knee to the stomachs, but Deadpool didn't fall. Instead, he grabbed the leg and sent the knife into Tom's leg, eliciting a cry of pain. Still holding the limb, he added, "It just makes the fight feel so much more intimate, yeah?"

Tom backhanded him away, before pulling the knife out and discarding it.

"Gonna rip yer head off fer that."

"Please, better men than you have tried," Deadpool shot back. "More handsome, too."

"I'll give ye handsome, ye bastard." Tom threw out a few more blast. Deadpool sprinted to the left, avoiding the worst of the attack, but one clipped in the side. He spun in the air but was able to right himself with a rolling landing.

He quickly brought up his pistol and started to fire on Tom. He only go off one shot before the Irishman closed the distance and grabbed Deadpool's arms. Tom pointed the guns to the sky and said, "What's the matter, Deadpool? Ye seem off."

"You're going to pay for what you did to her," Deadpool spat out.

"The fuck're ye talkin' about?" Tom asked.

"Don't you dare play stupid!" Deadpool smashed his forehead into Tom's, sending the two stumbling away from each other. The merc clutched his head. "Right. Never headbutt, always a bad move."

He aimed at Tom again, but he was just thrown back by another blast, knocking the guns from his hands. Tom stepped towards him. "Gotta admit, didn't think I'd be this lucky when looking for ye," he said. "When Enrique couldn't give me any clues, I figured I'd have to do some pretty deep digging."

He grabbed Deadpool by the neck and picked him up. The merc tried to throw a punch, but Tom caught the fist and crushed it, eliciting a shriek.

"But then I see ye looking for me, and that's got me thinkin'; What're the odds that we'd both be looking for each other at the same time? So, tell me. Why're ye after me?"

Deadpool coughed behind the mask. "Hired to take you out… some bigwig is upset at the trouble you've been causing… all too happy to take payment."

"I see." Tom tightened his grip. He muttered, "That fat bastard…"

"Wha..?"

"Ye don't know, do ye?" That made the Irishman laugh. "Ye poor fool. Unlike you, I don't need to kill ye. That would be a bonus. No, I just need a piece of ye. And I'm gonna take a mighty big piece."

He reared his hand back before thrusting it forward through Deadpool's chest. The merc coughed up some blood from behind his mask. Pain raced throughout his entire body. Being impaled was never fun, but it was usually done with a sword, or a knife, a blade of some kind.

When it was something wider, with the ability to hook, like a hand? That was just a whole new level of pain. Tom leaned into his ear and whispered, "Don't worry, Wade. I'll tell the good doctor ye said hello."

Deadpool's eyes widened. The good doctor? It couldn't be. Could it?

Tom ripped his arm out, now covered in blood, ready to go fishing for something vital again, when a loud, screeching noise filled the air. It really started to hurt Deadpool's ears, but whatever it was must have been focused on Tom, because was slammed to the side and through the wall. Some rubble fell on him, covering his form from view.

Deadpool slunk to the ground, holding in his internal organs. "Stay in there," he whispered. "Daddy needs you."

He heard something land in front of him. Looking up, he saw… a woman? A beautiful woman, with long, red hair, a pair of nice-looking dress pants, and an incredibly sexy leather jacket. The hair was what drew his attention. It looked absolutely stunning on her. It accentuated her face really well.

He thought he could hear her speaking to him, but hearing was starting to leave him, and consciousness was slipping from his grasp. He could hear himself say something as he passed out, but he wasn't sure what.

He's pretty sure it was profound.

"So… pretty…"

* * *

The man dressed in a red and black suit fell forward. Siryn looked on at the horrifying display before her. When he had flown above the alley, she saw another guy drive his entire arm through this guy's chest. When she saw that, she summoned up her power, and sent a sonic screech into him.

She'd deal with the attacker later. Right now, she had to check on the victim. She jogged over and dropped to one knee. It wasn't the first impalement that she'd have to deal with, but she only had a roll of bandages on her. No disinfectant, no stitches, nothing else.

Siryn rolled him over to look at the damages and couldn't help but be amazed. The wound, however slowly, was healing. It was closing. Had she stumbled upon the mutant already? Granted, he was apparently causing trouble before, and now had been no different. Figuring the mutant would be alright for a minute, she made her way over to the hole in the wall.

The other man had a strange growth all over him, that looked almost like wood. He had to have impressive strength to be able to impale a man with just his arm. But when she looked inside the building, he was completely gone. She cursed the air. Mutant or no, he was dangerous and needed to be stopped. But then Scott's words circled through her head. She had a mission, she remembered.

She looked back at the man in the costume lying in a heap. Even with a healing factor, she should tend to him. She gripped the bandages tighter before putting them away and crouching down next to him. He looked heavy, but nothing she couldn't handle. She needed to find someplace to let him rest. Wolverine was typically out for a while after a pretty intense fight, and if this guy was like him, she doubted he'd like waking up in garbage.

Grabbing him under the arms, Siryn took off into the sky.

* * *

_Are we dead?_

**Of course, we're not. We can't die.**

_Does Thanos have that curse on us still? Or is that not a thing anymore?_

**I don't even know if it's in continuity with us.**

_Man, this whole fanfic business is a confusing mess._

**You're telling me. Who else would remember a no-name like Black Tom?**

_Fox would._

**Well, to be fair, they were reaching for some pretty deep pulls at the time.**

_What, like Hugh Jones?_

**Exactly.**

_So, if we're not dead, what happened?_

**Not sure. I'm pretty sure we should've woken up by now.**

_Yeah, a stabbing like that shouldn't be keeping us down for this long!_

**What did Tom do to us?**

_Wade! You need to wake up!_

**Please wake up!**

* * *

Behind her, the mutant mumbled something. Siryn raised an eyebrow. She couldn't make out what he was saying. She was pretty sure she heard something about "not going back"?

He was a strange character. She couldn't find anything about him when looking him up on their database, and Scott still wasn't answering her call. There must be some real trouble in Genosha right about now.

The mutant had almost completely healed by the time they got back, but she still wrapped him in the bandages to be safe. There was a massive amount of scar tissue though, and hopefully that'll heal in time. If the wound was big enough, Wolverine would have a small scar to remember it by.

She had taken them to an abandoned building on the outskirts of Alphabet City. It had been an old apartment complex, but now it was run down and dilapidated. It was the best place she could think of, since there wasn't anywhere for the X-Men to hold up in New York anymore. They typically had to rent hotels, but she was short on cash, so that was a no go.

Whoever had last lived here left a so-so mattress, a desk, and a chair. It was better than nothing. She was currently in the chair, tapping her fingers against the table. It had been about an hour since they arrived, and the mumbling was the only activity from the man besides a steady breathing.

The bandages had bled through, she noted. Siryn grabbed the rest of the roll and walked over. As she was reach over, though, a hand snapped over her forearm and pulled her close.

Before she could react, a gun was pressed under her chin as the man said, "Who are you, where am I, and how did I get here?"

"Wha-?"

"Answer the fucking question," the man said as he pulled the hammer of his gun back. "Don't make me ask twice. I don't like asking twice."

Siryn took a deep breath. It wasn't the greeting she was expecting, but she would just have to roll with it. He'd pull the trigger before she could let out a scream. She couldn't let that happen. "My name is Siryn," she began, as calmly as she could considering the circumstances. "I brought you to an apartment in Alphabet City. I also bandaged you up after you were impaled."

"The other guy," the man asked, "did you see where he went?"

Siryn shook her head. "Nae. I blasted him into a wall, then brought you here."

For a moment, he just looked her over. As if making a decision.

"If it helps, I didn't take off the mask," Siryn added with a shrug. "I know how people in masks feel about that."

Finally, he put the gun away and let her arm go. Siryn let out a deep breath, and grabbed her wrist. "Sorry, beautiful," the man said. "I don't trust easy, and waking up in a rundown apartment, no matter how pretty the owner is, doesn't fill me with a lot of trust."

"I understand," she replied, getting to her feet. "Couldn't done without the gun, but I'll let it slide."

"Again, my sincerest apologies," he replied, standing up and taking a deep bow. "Thanks for the assist by the way, but I had that handled."

Just as Siryn was about to reply, the man said, "Yes, I did."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothing. Anyway, Siryn. That's a nice name. What's your superpower? Luring sailors into the sea?" He chuckled as he walked past her into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I never got your name," she loudly stated, already growing a bit tired of the man.

He stopped in his tracks and spun around, holding out a card in his hand. She took it hesitantly. "Pool. Dead," Deadpool said. "Pleased to meet you, Siryn."

Siryn gave the business card a once over before placing it in a pocket. "Deadpool, I've been sent by—"

"Hey, want a beer?" he called out at the fridge, pulling out a couple bottles, offering her one.

"No, I don't wa—How did you know there would be drinks in there?"

Deadpool shrugged. "So," he said, pulling off the bottle cap. He raised it to his lips but then lowered it. "You said something about being sent?"

"Yes, I was sent by Scott Summers of the X-Men to find you and bring you to Genosha. You've been causing trouble and we're offering either asylum or an escort to the authorities." She was growing very tired.

"Summers, huh?" He shook his head. "Quick question; did he refer to me as a mutant?"

"Of course."

"Got the wrong guy then."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Ol' one eye and the gang don't see me as a genuine mutant," he explained.

"Why wouldn't they-?" She was interrupted once again by her communicator going off. Could she go five minutes without being interrupted. She pulled it out and spoke into it. "Siryn here."

" _Siryn, sorry for missing your calls. What's the update?"_

Scott.

"Yea, I've got a guy here that I'm pretty sure is the mutant you were talking about, but he says he isn't?" Siryn explained.

She could hear the confusion behind the line. _"I'm going to need you to explain that a bit more."_

"He says he isn't a real mutant."

"… _What's his name?"_

The suspicion in his voice made Siryn raise her eyebrow. "Deadpool."

There was a long silence.

" _Oh, dear God, not him._ "


	4. A Good Ol' Fashion Team-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being taken down by Black Tom, Deadpool teams up with Siryn to start the hunt after him. Siryn is uneasy at this new alliance, but as she learns more and more about Deadpool, her opinion of him becomes less and less defined.

"Is he talking about me?" Deadpool called out. "I bet he's talking about me."

Siryn glanced back at him before focusing back on her conversation. "What's the matter with him?"

" _He is a dangerous individual, Siryn, you need to be as far away from him as you can."_ Cyclops didn't necessarily sound worried, but he certainly sounded a bit frantic.

"Wait, how do you know about him?" Siryn asked suddenly. "I tried looking him up in the mutant database and he isn't mentioned anywhere."

"That's because I ain't in there, babe," Deadpool replied from the couch. He brought the bottle to his covered mouth and poured some. From what Siryn could tell, most of it just spilled past his mask, but she's sure some bled through. "Like I said, X-Men don't consider me a mutant."

" _We've had a few run-ins in the past,"_ Cyclops replied through clearly gritted teeth. _"Wolverine has more history with him, but I know enough to tell you to get out of there. I can assure you, he isn't who we're looking for."_

"Okay, he did pull a gun on me," Siryn muttered.

" _He what?!"_ Cyclops asked.

"I said I was sorry!" Deadpool complained.

"Then it must've been the other guy he was fightin'," she said.

" _Other guy?"_

"Some guy who looked like a tree was growing out of him," she clarified.

" _That does not help at all."_

"Oh, you're looking for that douche?" Deadpool asked. "I can help you find him."

Siryn whipped around to face Deadpool. "You will?"

" _Do not trust him, Siryn,"_ Cyclops warned.

"Yeah, I'm getting paid some pretty good money to take him down," he said with a shrug. "Although, I figure I'm going to have to renegotiate."

Siryn had no idea what that meant. Cyclops said, " _Siryn, I can hear what he's saying. Remember, Deadpool is dangerous."_

She was conflicted. On the one hand, she had no reason not to trust Cyclops. He had always looked out for Siryn, was typically right about most things. But, on the other hand, she had no clue where to start looking for this mutant, and Deadpool might.

" _Think about this carefully, Theresa,"_ Cyclops said. His voice held no judgement, nor urging now. It was calm and passive. _"I won't stop you from accepting his help, but I do strongly advise against it. He's not a man you want to be involved with._ "

For a moment Siryn pondered her option. She finally said, "I'll call you back when I know more." She shut off the communicator.

"Sooo?" Deadpool waited. "What's the plan?"

"Why do you want him dead?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard. "W-What do you mean? I got paid, is that not reason enough?"

Liar.

"So, you're a contract killer? Explains the guns." She eyed him up and down. "Alright. We can work together. On one condition."

"Name it, babe."

"Two, actually," she said, gritting her teeth. "One, don't call me that ever again."

He shrugged. "Sure thing, Red."

"Two, I'm going to keep a close eye on you. If you even think about going behind my back, or doing some crazy that'll get people hurt, I will take you down. Painfully."

"Oh, threaten me with a good time," Deadpool joked. But he held up two fingers in a mock scout salute. "I, Deadpool of Regina, Saskatchewan, solemnly swear to protect the innocent even at the cost of my own paycheck."

Siryn rolled her eyes, but at the same time, couldn't help but crack a smile. "Well, that's a start, at least. Let's get going."

"Right, but before that, I got to make a little pit stop," Deadpool said.

"Where?"

"To go say a prayer."

* * *

Black Tom stormed into the office and slammed his hands down on the table. It had hardly startled the man sitting across from him.

"Ye want to tell me the hell ye were thinkin', Killebrew?" he asked.

The man in shadows, Dr. Emrys Killebrew, leaned back. "To what are you referring to?"

"Ye 'ired Deadpool too, didn't ye? Ye put us up against each other and let us fight."

"Guilt as charged, but you make it sound as if it's a bad thing," Killebrew replied.

Black Tom curled his fists, putting cracks into the table. Killebrew didn't flinch. "Ye have ten seconds."

"0How long would it have taken you to find Deadpool without me sending him after you? Days? Weeks?"

Tom didn't respond. He just waited.

"Me sending him after you lured him out. Granted, I didn't expect it to happen in mere hours, but we'll chalk that up to one of those happy accidents."

Tom snorted. "Yeah. A happy accident. One that ended in me getting thrown through a fucking wall."

"Deadpool is quite the fighter," Killebrew reminded him.

"Except it wasn't 'im. It was some mutant broad, stumbled onto the fight."

Killebrew's head tilted. "An unknown factor, then. Do you know who she was?"

"Didn' get a good look at 'er," Tom said. "Got out of there as soon as I could, in case Deadpool got back up."

"So, you didn't get a piece of him?"

"No," the Irishman confirmed. "I was about to start carving pieces off 'im when I got blasted through the damn wall. But I gave Deadpool somethin' to remember me by." He displayed the bloodied arm to Killebrew.

The doctor sat up straighter in his chair. "Is that his blood?" he asked.

"Yea, why?"

Killebrew got out of his chair and stepped into the light. Rather unimpressively, however, all he was was a short, fat man with long, gray hair tied back into a ponytail with a thick moustache covering his upper lip. But for being so out of shape, he moved surprisingly quickly past Tom.

"Follow me," he said. "I believe there might be something that can be done with that alone."

He moved out of his office into a small laboratory. He walked over to a cabinet, pulled it open, and grabbed a vial. He held it out. "Put some of that blood into this vial."

Tom raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless did as he was told. His arm, still covered in Deadpool's blood, dripped a few drops off blood into the glass. Killebrew quickly pulled it back. "Yes, I do think that should be good enough."

"Fer me cure?" Tom asked.

"No, we would still need a larger sample for that, but I believe I can give you something that will aid you in the pursuit," Killebrew informed him. "An artificial healing factor very much like his."

"Then just give me that," Tom demanded.

"Don't be a fool," Killebrew chided. He held the glass vial closer to his eyes. "Do you think replicating his healing factor has never been done before? I've done it myself. The problem is that it's designed specifically for his body."

"So?"

Killebrew rolled his eyes, an action that caused Tom to bristle. "So, the healing factor is too powerful for a normal person's body. It's not like Wolverine's, who's healing factor is relatively stable and reliable. No, if place in a normal person's body, I would replace cells that don't need replacement. Eventually, it would become a cancer in it's own way. But Deadpool's own cancer fights back against it, albeit having massive side effects."

He presented the vial to Tom again with a strange flourish. "With this, I'd be able to synthesize a temporary healing factor. Even without Deadpool's cancer, I've had patients go hours before they start feeling the more nasty side effects that come with his power. But with even this precious amount of his blood, I'd be able to make it so the effects of the mutation are temporary."

"I'll just ignore that ye called Deadpool's blood precious," Tom said with a sneer. "So, basically, I'd have a temporary healing factor?"

"Yes! I don't know the exact time, but I believe I could do an hour. But I'd only be able to make one dose, so you had better make it count," Killebrew stated.

"Me very own healin' factor, eh?" Tom said, rubbing his chin. He then smiled widely. "I like the sound of that. How long will it take?"

"A day or two, at most." Killebrew looked Tom up and down. "I don't believe the virus will kill you in that time, but you're welcome to find another, quicker alternative if you feel differently."

"One day," Tom said. It wasn't a request, but rather a statement. "One day, then I go back out an' fer Deadpool meself."

"What will you do until then?"

Tom let a small and wicked smile play across his lips. "Call in a few favors. Let's see if we canna keep 'im occupied fer the next twenty-four hours."

* * *

"What is this place?" Siryn asked Deadpool as they stepped towards the gates of the church. Next to the church looked like a school, but he had made it clear that they would be going to the church itself.

The mercenary presented the plaque on the side of the gate. "This, my curious lass, is Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls."

"I can read, thank ye, Deadpool," Siryn retorted. "I was wondering what we were doing here."

_Oh, man, I can't wait until she sees inside!_

**Yes, a truly rare opportunity, not many are allowed to see these sacred grounds.**

"Well, I'm sure she's honored," Deadpool replied without thinking.

"What?" Siryn asked.

"Nothin'. I just have to pick up a few things and then we'll be on our way to find our little mutie friend."

"I'd rather appreciate it if you didn't use that word," she said, holding in the flash of anger. She'd been confronted by more than a few angry mobs shouting that word at her, and had developed a strong distaste for it.

Deadpool shrugged. "Sure, whatever you say. How's 'raging psychopath'? Or 'batshit insane maniac'? Or 'tree fucker'? I like 'tree fucker'."

"My God, you do talk a lot," Siryn noted.

"Hey, now, we're entering holy grounds," Deadpool lightly chided her. "Remember not to take the Lord's name in vain around our host."

They stepped through the church door, and Siryn was ready to see a den of debauchery. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised to see a normal church. There were a few people praying, and no large, gun-toting men walking around. Present company excluded, of course.

"Sister Anna! How's my favorite nun doing?"

Up at the altar, an old lady turned around to spot Deadpool. She was wearing standard nun gowns, and her face was heavily wrinkled, but they framed her face well when she smiled at the mad man. "Mr. Pool, how have you been today?"

"Been good, just stopping by to pick up a few things," he said, walking down the aisle. "Oh, this is a new friend, she's helping me out on a job."

"Oh, bless your heart," Sister Anna said, taking Siryn's hand. "Mr. Pool has such trouble making friends. And it seems he's gotten lucky and gotten a looker."

She couldn't help but blush at the compliment. "Well, thank you, Sister Anna."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I never got your name," Anna said. "Forgive me, in my old age, I forget the smaller manners."

"No, no, it's fine," Siryn assured her. "My name's Theresa." She didn't notice Deadpool raise an eyebrow.

"Such a pretty name for such a pretty girl," Anna mused. "Now, Mr. Pool, you wanted to pick some things up. Did you need to discuss a job with Patches?"

"Might as well," he shrugged. They headed towards a door on the side. "By the way, how's Jessica doing? She was in pretty rough shape when I brought her here."

"Oh, she's doing wonderful. We're teaching the children cursive, and she's taking to it so well. I'll have to show you some of what she's written. Oh, and Amy has been asking for you."

"She has?" Deadpool asked with a smile. "What a sweet kid. She's come so far."

"Yes, and she's gotten so strong too," she stated as they got to the door. "Now, I'll let you get on with your business. Go with God, Mr. Pool."

"Thanks, Sister," Deadpool happily replied, stepping with Siryn through the door. They got to an elevator, and he pressed the button doing down.

As they waited, the X-Man couldn't help but ask, "What was all of that?"

Deadpool looked befuddled, even through the mask. "What do you mean?"

"The nun, the children you mentioned," Siryn said. "Was that all some kind of codeword?"

"No, of course not," Deadpool said. "Jessica was a kidnap victim from one of my jobs, and Amy was in a very bad place. So, I took them here, since I knew how much Sister Anna loves helping kids."

"Oh." Siryn had to admit, that caught her off guard. "And, do you do this often? Bringing children here?"

"Eh, if I see a kid who needs help, I help 'em," Deadpool casually replied, as though it was obvious he would do so. "They didn't ask for what they got, so I figure it's only fair that they get a shot at a good life. I try to help out with my pay when I can, but I don't always get paid a whole lot, and, y'know, rent _is_ due."

_Aww, you're just a big ol' softie, aren't ya?_

That information most assuredly caught her off guard. As she waited in the elevator, she couldn't help but glance at Deadpool. This strange man. Had she been asked even five minutes ago, she would've said he was nothing more than a hedonistic madman who cared only for a paycheck and annoying people with the sound of his voice.

Now, though, he was helping displaced children? Giving a cut of his pay? And having a decent enough rapport with a nun of all people? Who was this man?

The elevator opened and they both stepped in. Deadpool clicked the lowest button, and Siryn noted with some surprise that there were a lot of buttons.

"So," he started. "Theresa, huh?"

Siryn stiffened. Shit. She wasn't even thinking when she gave her name to Sister Anna. And now Deadpool knew it.

That being said, it wasn't like it was an uncommon name. She didn't give her last name, so she was still relatively anonymous.

"Yeah?" she replied. "What about it?"

"Nothing," Deadpool quickly said. "I just agree with Sister Anna."

"About?"

"It's a nice name."

A brief silence fell between them as Siryn looked away and blushed.

"Isn't as cool as Deadpool, though," he quickly added.

The blush quickly went away, but Siryn cracked a smile. "Well, not all of our parents want to stick their kids with a weird name. Not a lot of employment opportunities with a name like that."

"I'll have you know, I could've been an excellent birthday party clown," Deadpool replied. "I have this neat party trick where I take my finger and—"

"I don't want to know," Siryn quickly replied. "So, you know my name. What about yours?"

The merc didn't respond.

"I hardly would think Deadpool is your real name," she continued.

Deadpool looked up and saw them nearing the bottom. "Maybe one day," was all he said on the subject.

Siryn nodded in understanding. It wasn't like she gave her name willingly, and Deadpool looked to be a guy who preferred his privacy.

The elevator doors opened, and she froze. Deadpool walked past her into the bar of mercenaries and bounty hunters all drinking to their heart's content. He stopped and looked back at her. "Well, come on, we need to hurry it up."

Now this was what she was expecting when she first arrived. But the mood whiplash caused by there being a plain, ordinary church just above them was still quite disorienting. She looked around in shock for a few seconds, before hurrying to catch up with Deadpool. They stopped at the bar, where behind it stood a thin, disheveled man with shoulder length brown hair and a pair of thick rimmed glasses. He looked up at the merc.

"Should've figured that I'd see your ugly face at some point," the man muttered.

"Aw, come on, Weas, you're not still upset about Jacksonville, are you?" Deadpool asked.

The man, Weasel, glared at Deadpool. "You almost blew the entire job." He began pouring a drink. "My incredibly well laid, intricate plans, gone into the toilet, just because you wanted to go to TGI Friday's."

He shrugged. "It's a wonderful TGI Friday's," he defended. "Oh, by the way, Siryn, this is my bud, Weasel. Weasel, this is my new partner in crime, Siryn."

Weasel glanced at Siryn, who raised her eyebrow at Deadpool. "So," she started. "Why do they call you Weasel?"

He pulled his top lip up, showing two decent sized front teeth. "Buck teeth," he said, letting his lip drop back into place.

"Bullshit, they call you weasel because you're a scared little bitch," Deadpool interjected.

"Well, you'd be scared at having to look at your face too, DP," Weasel shot back.

Deadpool slapped a hand on the bar. "I'll have you know; I was voted Sexiest Canadian Mercenary three years running."

"Yeah, you got some stiff competition there," Weasel chuckled, handing him a drink. "So, what are you doing here?"

"On a job, need to pick up a few things and ask Patches some question." He brought the drink to his lips but looked befuddled how to actually drink it through the mask.

"Well, he's in his office," Weasel said, motioning towards a door off to the side.

Deadpool raised his glass in cheers and headed towards the door. As he and Siryn were walking past the patrons, he placed the glass on a desk with a large, heavily tattooed, and bearded man. "Oh, by the way, Buck? This is from Mason."

Buck looked down at the drink before turning red. He got out of his chair and stormed off towards another patron. "You think that's fucking funny?!" he shouted, before throwing a punch.

Deadpool chuckled, placed the glass down, and headed towards the office. Siryn stared at the brawl unfolding before asking, "What kind of drink was that?"

"A Blowjob," he offhandedly replied.

**Ah, yes, how classy.**

_Well, it's not like we were going to drink it! Weasel gave it to us._

He threw open the door to a well-kept office, much different from the bar outside. The sole occupant of the office, a short, bald, and old man, was sat at the desk smoking a cigar. He looked past the two to the brawl outside. He sighed and shook his head. "Damnit, what the hell did you do this time, Deadpool?"

"Me?" he asked in mock offensive. "Why, I would never! It's not my fault Mason won't confess his true feelings to Buck. Anyway, got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"This morning, did you get news of a Gold Card coming in for me? About a hit?"

Patches shook his head. "No, haven't gotten one asking for you specifically since that Roxxon job. Why, what's the matter?"

Deadpool's hand curled into a fist. "Looks like I've been played. Thanks, Patches. Just needed the clarification."

"No problem." He reached into his desk and tossed Deadpool a pair of keys. As the two were leaving the office, Patches called out, "And stop starting fights in my bar!"

"What's that, I can hear you!" Deadpool called, shutting the door as soon as he and Siryn were out. He shook his keys. "Alright, now to grab my tools. This project is going to take some heavy-duty equipment."

Siryn raised an eyebrow. "What kind of equipment?"

Deadpool smiled beneath the mask.

* * *

About an hour and two city blocks later, they had traveled to a storage container. They had traveled to a scrapyard, also known as the heart of Alphabet City. Deadpool had a duffle bag out and was throwing as many guns as he could fit. Siryn was standing back.

"Deadpool," she reminded him. "My mission is to bring him back to Genosha."

"And my job is to put a bullet in his head, and believe me, I plan to do just that." He threw a shotgun into the bag. He had strapped a spare pair of katanas on this back, with another holster over his back containing another shotgun, while an assault rifle was strapped to his back as well.

Siryn shook her head. "We can't just kill him!"

"Listen!" he shouted, slamming a submachine gun into the bag. His tone had taken on a more venomous tone than Siryn was used to. She had to admit to taking a step back. "You don't know this guy. You don't just bring him in."

"There has to be another way," she pleaded. "I'm sure the X-Men would compensate for any—"

"It's not just the money, Red," he interrupted. "You have no idea who we are dealing with. He is dangerous."

"That's what Cyclops said about you," Siryn fired back.

Deadpool didn't even hesitate. "And he's right. But Black Tom? Oh, he's on a whole different level."

Siryn's blood ran cold. "…What did you just say?"

"Tom's a sadist, and he'll never stop until someone puts him down."

"…Black Tom…?" she lightly breathed out.

Deadpool stopped back and finally noticed her reaction to the name. He squinted at her. "Yeah… Black Tom Cassidy." He took a step closer. "Do you know him?"

She just shook her head. "No, that's… that's impossible."

**Has anyone else noticed the abrupt mood shift in this scene?**

_Oh, good, I'm not the only one who noticed._

Deadpool ignored them. He stepped closer. "Red?"

"You're lying," she said. She felt her throat hitch and some tears running down her face.

"I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but Tom is running around Alphabet City while we're in a warehouse not doing anything about it."

She looked up at him with anger in her eyes. Deadpool's went wide as he took a step back. "Okay, I realize that might've come off as insensitive, but to be fair—" he started to say.

But as he was talking, Siryn let out a scream.

"YOU'RE LYIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGGG!"

The force of her sonic scream threw Deadpool back into the gun rack, leaving a nice indent into the wall. When she stopped screaming, he fell forward onto the ground. "Ow," he said quietly. "So, this is going to be a thing now, isn't it?"

_Probably._

**Oh, most assuredly.**

Siryn was still taking in short, sharp breaths. "I-I watched him die! I saw it with me own two eyes!"

"The hell are you talking about, lady?" Deadpool groaned out, getting to his feet. "What is your problem?"

Siryn took a few steps towards the incensed Deadpool, but door to the storage container blew open, forcing both of them down to avoid damage. "Oh, what the hell is this?!" Deadpool shouted.

_Jesus, this is just becoming a day, isn't it?_

**Yeah, not what I expected when we woke up this morning.**

Deadpool and Siryn looked to the door to see a group of heavily armed men leveling their guns. "Friends of yours?" she asked.

"I'm offended you would think that I have anything to do with these guys," he replied with offense in his voice.

"Deadpool," one of the men called out, Leader, Deadpool decided to call him. "Black Tom has requested we bring you in. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter to us."

Siryn didn't say anything. She just shot a look at Deadpool. "Well, I still find it offensive," was his best defense.


	5. AMBUSH!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all my adoring fans and, potentially, adamant haters, your ol' buddy Deadpool here! Just popping in here to say today's chapter will be a little bit shorter than the others. I know what you're thinking; "What, you go a whole week without updating and you only got 2,000 words to show for it?" But next chapter is going to be pretty important, so you just hang onto your butts.
> 
> Anyway, read on to my continuing adventures of fighting against the evil Mephisto and his new minion, my pal Weasel (long story), as they try to tempt me into becoming an EMISSARY OF HELL!
> 
> ...wait, that doesn't sound right...?

“Is that…?”

Black Tom had a headset on and was staring at the footage being recorded from the leader of the mercenary group he had hired. He was able to pull some strings on some incredibly wealthy people and was able to get this group on short notice.

They had tracked Deadpool down in short order, but it wasn’t that failure of a human being that caught his attention. It was the woman he was with. The hair. The red hair brought him back to a life that was long since buried. 

She had grown, obviously. No longer was there the innocence of a child when he looked into those eyes, but a fiery determination. Her smooth, rounded face had become sharp and hardened. She’d grown up. And now, she was allied with Deadpool?

He knew she’d joined the X-Men. Tom had been following her career from a distance. But what was she doing with this creature? He immediately pressed the button to open a communication channel to the team.

“Attention, Commander,” he said into the mic. “Effective immediately, _no one_ attacks Deadpool without first removin’ the X-Man Siryn from the crossfire. God pity the soldier that harms. One. Single! HAIR! ON HER HEAD!”

* * *

The Leader lowered his hand from his headset. “Affirmative, sir. Get her out of here!”

The group totaled ten men. Deadpool and Siryn were only two.

**Hmm, the math does check out.**

_Yeah, these don’t look like too good of odds._

**For them.**

“Dibs on the guy with the ponytail!” Deadpool shouted, pulling out a katana and leaping into the group.

Siryn grimaced before leaping in as well. In close quarters like this, she wasn’t able to use her scream, for fear of rupturing Deadpool’s own eardrums. Sure, they would heal, but she’d already slammed him against a wall with no warning. She figured he wouldn’t forgive her if she did the same twice.

She hovered as high as she could in this cramped space before flying forward and grabbing ahold one of the men. She continued on her path out of the container before flying further up and dropping him. The fall wouldn’t kill him, but it would certainly wind him enough for Siryn to focus on another merc.

Deadpool was swinging wildly in the center of the men.

_It’s a goddamn cuddle pile!_

“Yeah, and I can’t wait to get more intimate with these guys!” Deadpool shouted, bringing his sword down on one of the soldier’s shoulder, slicing the arm off cleaning.

To the guy’s credit, he didn’t really react, just pulled out another knife and started stabbing.

Deadpool pulled out a pistol and started firing, but the guys were armored enough that they only would leave some minor bruises.

**Maybe jumping into the middle of a heavily armed group wasn’t the best idea.**

“Nope, t’was not,” he agreed, struggling to break free of the soldier’s grips. They were surprisingly strong. He was able to grip one of the shotguns strapped to himself and just pulled the trigger. It tore through one of his legs, but it also did the same for the guy behind him. He was sent to the ground screaming.

It seemed Armless’s commitment was above and beyond the rest.

He laughed as they backed off. “Deadpool!” Taken by surprise, Deadpool was gripped from below his shoulders and carried off by Siryn. “We need to get going!”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for your help,” he said, trying to shake himself free. “Let go of me!”

“What’re you--?! Deadpool!”

“I said, ‘LET GO!’”

He wrestled himself free, plummeting a good twenty feet to the ground. He fell on some of the scrap lying around, skewering him in multiple place. “Oooh, that’s going to leave a mark,” he complained.

“There he is!” Leader called out. “After him!”

Two of the soldiers rushed forward but were immediately put down by a sonic scream. Siryn descended between the men and Deadpool, who was currently peeling himself off some wreckage.

As she got ready for another attack, Leader threw a small, metallic sphere at her. It was quick, and she had no time to react other than putting her hands up. She heard Deadpool call out, “Red!”

Fortunately, their worst fear wasn’t realized. Instead of the explosion of air and shrapnel from a frag grenade, something else was released. Unfortunately, when the sphere opened, a black goo was flung at her. It clung to her like glue.

Strangely, she wasn’t suffocating. It was slightly more difficult to breathe than before, but oxygen was getting to her lungs. But she was completely silenced. No matter how hard she tugged and pulled at her face, the substance just wouldn’t come off.

“Son of a bitch,” Deadpool gritted out as he rushed forward. “You know, there really isn’t a party if you take away the music!”

“Our apologies,” Leader replied. “Men, give him something to sing to!”

The remaining soldiers got to their knees and opened fire.

_Hey, that one was actually pretty good._

Deadpool shoved Siryn to the ground out of the firing line but was unable to move away himself before the bullets tore through his form. He stumbled back as the ammo continued to pour into him and a string of expletives came tumbling out of his mouth.

**I’m detecting a slight problem here.**

As the bullet storm came to a halt, he fell forward to the ground and wheezed. “I’m pretty sure the problems just tore through my lungs.”

_Also, they’re getting after the Irish babe!_

Deadpool’s gaze trailed to the men grabbing ahold of Siryn and dragging her off. “Fuck,” he breath out getting to his knees. He reached to the knife in his boot and pulled it out. He heard Leader chuckled.

“A knife to a gun fight?” he said. “Tom was right. You are pretty stupid.”

Instead of replying, he just threw the knife as hard and as precise as he could. All of the soldiers easily dodged the maneuver. Leader barked out a laugh. “You missed.”

“Wasn’t aiming for you,” Deadpool replied.

The knife went past Leader, slicing across Siryn’s forehead. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it was enough to tear apart the black goop holding her voice back. She ripped off the substance and quickly shot up into the sky, with two of the soldiers still holding onto her.

Siryn spun in the air fast enough to shake off them off, causing to plummet to the ground. When they landed, the air was knocked out of their lungs, but they were still alive. She shot back down, and as she was speeding towards the group, she let out a massive scream. The shockwaves sent the remainder of the group to the ground.

She landed in the middle of the soldiers and began engaging them in hand to hand combat as they staggered to their feet. She avoided a punch from Armless but used his momentum to throw him into another. She followed it up with a straight kick to the throat of another goon. He choked and gagged as he fell to his knees, Siryn delivered a roundhouse kick across his face.

Deadpool, meanwhile, was watching on with fascination.

_Wow, look at her go._

**Quite impressive.**

“I get the feeling if I had her with me, Tom would’ve been crying for mommy,” Deadpool replied, smiling under his mask.

In only a minute, Siryn had been able to dispatch the last of the soldiers, with Leader being the only one who was semi-conscious. She surveyed the scene before jogging over to Deadpool. “Are ye alright?”

“Just fine,” Deadpool replied, struggling to stay on his feet. His leg was healing, but not incredibly fast, and there was also the small, almost trivial matter of his punctured lungs. Those were healing a bit faster, but it was still a struggle to stay conscious.

He looked at Siryn. “Y’know, I like it when your accent slips through.”

“W-What?” she stuttered, caught off guard by the comment.

“Never mind,” he said, limping towards Leader. “I need to have a talk with our pal over there.”

Leader, for his part, was trying to crawl away. Siryn had taken him down last with a pretty sweet armbar maneuver, dislocating his shoulder joint. It gave Deadpool no small amount of pleasure to watch both the act, and the image of Leader crawling away.

But he was able to catch up to him, and once he did, he rolled him over to onto his back. “Hey, bud,” Deadpool greeted, dropping down to a knee. “I just need to borrow something.”

He gently took the headset Leader was wearing and shoved him down to the ground. Deadpool held the mic up to his mouth. “Tom. You failed. I’m coming for you next.” He gave the microphone a squeeze, crushing it.

* * *

Black Tom stared at the video of Deadpool clumsily getting to his feet. A smile crossed his lips.

* * *

Siryn helped Deadpool get to his feet, but he shrugged her off. “Okay, Soldier Boy, there’s one way you get out of this with something resembling life, and that’s telling me where Tom is.”

“Go to Hell,” Leader shot back, holding his broken arm.

Deadpool shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me. We’ll find him some other way.” He pulled out his pistol and was about ready to fire, but Siryn grabbed his forearm. “Red?”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said calmly. “Look at him. He’s beaten. Let him go.”

The merc looked between his partner and Leader. After a moment of deliberation, he replaced the pistol in his hip holster and gave Leader a good kick across the face. Siryn gave him a withering look. “What? He’ll live,” Deadpool said. “Besides, we have a few more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Like?” Siryn asked.

“Like how you screamed at me so hard, I made a Looney Tunes hole in the wall,” he replied. “That’s a pretty strong reaction to hearing Tom’s name.”

“So is trying to kill him,” she shot back.

“Not if you knew what he did to me.”

“What exactly did he do to you?”

Deadpool went silent, narrowing his eyes. A few seconds passed before he answered. “You don’t want to know.”

“But I do, Deadpool!” she pleaded, reaching out for him. “I want to know you.”

He slapped her hand out of the way. “No, you don’t. Trust me, Red, everyone who knows me either ends up dead or worse.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I don’t even know why I agreed to work together. It’s better if we just go our—”

“Theresa Rourke Cassidy.”

Deadpool stopped at the interruption. He looked back at Siryn. “What?”

“My name is Theresa Rourke Cassidy,” she repeated more firmly. “You wanted to know why I overreacted. And I’m willing to tell you. But you need to let me in, Deadpool.”

“I… I don’t…” Deadpool looked around the scrapyard, for anyway out of this conversation. Finally, he relented. “Fine, but not here. I’d rather not have a heart to heart with all these dead and/or unconscious people.”

Siryn nodded. “I’m sure there’s some rooftops we can go to.”

She walked over to him and grabbed hold of him under his shoulders. “Deep breath,” she said, and they took off.

* * *

They settled down a few blocks away on a multi-level building. It was nondescript enough that no one would notice unless they were really looking. And, at the moment, no one was.

Siryn gently let Deadpool go, allowing him to drop onto his feet, and then set herself down in front of him. He dusted himself off and took a seat on a nearby air conditioning unit. “Man, I gotta admit, you’ve got quite the eye for views. Actually, I think I can see my apartment from here.”

“Deadpool.”

He turned around and saw Siryn’s expectant look. After a moment of silence, he said, “Wade.”

Siryn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“My name is Wade,” Deadpool reiterated. “Wade Wilson.”

“’Wade’,” Siryn repeated, feeling how the sound felt on her tounge. She nodded. “Well, Wade, nice to finally meet you.”

He motioned across from him to another unit, inviting her to take a seat, which she gladly took.

“So…” Deadpool trailed off. “I show you mine, you show me yours?”

Siryn could hear the grin in his voice. She tried not to give him the satisfaction, but she couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as she shook her head. She asked, “How about you start at the beginning? What’s your name?”

_Oh, is this going to be a super-hero origin?_

**Only partly, we can’t give the reader everything yet.**

_Why not?_

**Well we need to give them a reason to keep reading.**


	6. Sins of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read on as my hostage/friend, Blind Al, are transported into the past! Now, I have to impersonate this college dweeb, Peter Pertanicus? I don't know, but I did knock out his elderly Aunt! Ha! That was a good one! Meanwhile, in the present, Weasel and the Great Lakes Avengers are working out a way to bring me and Al back!
> 
> I'm pretty sure I got it right this time.

Deadpool leaned back.

“Whew, where to even start?” he asked himself. “I mean, I guess that all depends on where you think the beginning is, you know? For instance, do you mean the beginning of my life? Because trust me, for a good sixteen years, it’s nothing but an asshole father being an asshole to his son. And that’s a story for another time.”

Siryn didn’t reply. She just kept looking at Deadpool, waiting for him to continue and get to the point. He noticed this and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Fiiiine. I’ll start with Tom. But I need to go a little further back than just when I met him.” Beneath his mask, he pursed his lips. “I, uh… I…”

“Take your time,” she replied. “I don’t want to rush you.”

He nodded in appreciation.

**We need to talk about her eventually.**

_Are you sure? I feel like we can keep that memory buried._

“I had a… wife,” he finally said. Siryn couldn’t help but do a double take.

“You did?”

“What, you don’t think a nice catch like me can settle down?” he asked in mock offense. He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Her name was Vanessa. She was… God, she was perfect. Her crazy matched my crazy, I would say to her. It would have to, with the work I did.”

“Were you still…?” Siryn trailed off, leaving the question for Deadpool to fill in.

“A merc? Yeah,” he confirmed. “Yeah, I was a good one.”

Deadpool noticed Siryn’s eyes narrowing. “Before you say anything, I was very selective with the jobs I took,” he affirmed. “Still am. I only killed bad people.”

Siryn was very tempted to ask if he was right to make that judgement call, or why that was in the past tense, but right now wasn’t a time to condemn him. Deadpool was finally opening up to her, presenting the man that was Wade Wilson to her. It was a strange sight.

She nodded, giving him the all clear to continue.

“Bad people,” he repeated. “I don’t remember much. My memory’s a bit foggy, but I remember her. I remember what we had together. And I remember when I threw that all away when I got the bad news. Cancer. That’s right, the Big C. It wasn’t too bad, I suppose. It was only in my liver, lungs, prostate, and brain. All things I can live without, I suppose.”

He waited to see if Siryn had anything to say. When she didn’t, he went on.

“So, I did what I felt was best. I ran. I ran as far and as fast away from her as I could. I know what cancer does to a person, and I know what it does to the people around that person. Trust me, I never want to put someone through that. So, I ran into the awaiting arms of good ol’ Weapon X.”

“Weapon X? I thought Wolverine took them down when he escaped,” Siryn said.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly Weapon X,” Deadpool sheepishly admitted. “It was more like the sloppy seconds of Weapon X. What I didn’t know, or what I don’t remember knowing, was that they were trying to recreate a newer, better Wolverine. No, all they told me was they could cure my cancer and make me a superhero.”

He smiled warmly. “I always wanted to be a hero,” he absently said. Siryn waited until he continued. He perked up. “And, I mean, I was dying anyway, so fuck it, right? I’ll be a guinea pig. And I go in there and I meet their warden.”

His eyes flicked to Siryn. “Tom.”

Her brow furrowed, but still she said nothing.

“He… tortured me,” he said. “He beat me. He mutilated me. Whatever sick, twisted, deranged idea he had in his head, he would do to me. For two and a half years. All to break in the new healing factor. And so, when I got out, I took him down. I beat him as badly as I could. I thought I had killed him.”

Deadpool went silent again for a moment, staring at the ground.

“Deadpool?” Siryn asked with a ting of concern mixed with a dash of hesitation. Seeing him this quiet, it was rather unnerving.

Either he didn’t hear her, or he ignored her. “First thing I do? I go find Vanessa. After almost three years, I wanted to… I don’t know. Apologize? I have no goddamned idea. But I just wanted to see her.

“But he found her first. Somehow, Weapon X figured out who I was and who I loved, and he went after her.” He looked straight into her eyes. “I barely recognize her when I found her body. I’m glad I never figured out what happened to her.”

“My God…” Siryn breathed out. 

Deadpool leaned back and shrugged. “After that, I tracked him down and blew up a building on him. Hadn’t seen or heard about him after that, so I figured the fucker died. Guess not.”

Siryn had to admit that she was in shock. She knew Tom was not a good person, by any stretch of the definition. He could be cruel, vicious, vindictive, all of these. But this? To torture a man for years, then go after his wife for revenge? She couldn’t believe it.

“What about you?” Deadpool asked suddenly.

Siryn cleared her throat. Right, there was an agreement. “What do you want to know?”

“Tom ‘Cassidy’. Theresa ‘Cassidy’. I’m pretty sure there’s enough of a connection there to raise a few eyebrows,” Deadpool said. “You’re a little young to be an old flame. But at the same time, there isn’t a whole lot of family resemblance. Daughter? Cousin?”

“Niece, actually,” she replied. “But he was my father in all but blood.”

“Oh,” was all Deadpool could say.

_…well, this is awkward._

**Yeah, one doesn’t endear themselves after trashing another’s family.**

_To be fair, it is Tom._

Deadpool cleared his throat as an indication for them to shut up. He then asked Siryn, “But you didn’t know he was alive either, did you?”

She shook her head. “No. I saw him die.”

“How?”

“We were mutants when that was even less tolerated than it is today,” she stated. 

“I remember it pretty clearly. We had moved to America a few years earlier. He had…” She trailed off, and looked to Deadpool, not knowing quite how to word this next bit. “…jobs, so he was gone a lot. Even though I knew he was a bad man, he was never like that to me. He never raised his voice. He was a pretty good dad, all things considered.”

She shrugged. “We moved around a lot. I didn’t stay in one place for more than a year until I was ten, when we moved to America, but even that wasn’t for much longer. I remember it was a Tuesday. We went out to get some ice cream.”

“A cold snack for a hot Summer day,” Deadpool absently remarked.

“Actually, it was middle of Winter,” she replied. “We really liked ice cream. Whenever we would go out and get ice cream, Tom left all his demons to the wayside. He just became… me dad.”

Siryn took in a deep breath. “Don’t know how it happened, but the town we were staying in, somehow, found out we were mutants. They didn’t take too kindly to that. It was a riot. All for a man and his daughter that weren’t doin’ nothin’ to no one.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “We ran as fast as we could. But I was too slow. He stayed behind to give me enough time to run as far and as fast as I could. I couldn’t look, but I heard it. The was he was screaming. He went down fighting.”

Deadpool couldn’t help but sneer under his mask. “That’s a sad story and all, but do you think that excuses him from all the shit he’s done?”

“No!” Siryn said. “Of course it doesn’t! My point it, I hear everything you say about him, and I look back on the man he was, especially that last day, and it’s just… hard.”

“What is?” Deadpool asked.

“It’s hard to think of him as the same man,” she replied. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Silence fell over the two.

**We should say something.**

_Like what? Lie, and tell her we won’t kill her father/uncle?_

**What would you rather do? Leave her confused like this?**

_No, but c’mon! It’s not our fault her uncle turned into a crazy psycho!_

**Of course not, but we are talking about killing the man. It’s hardly something one agrees to easily.**

“So, what’s the plan?” Deadpool asked.

“Plan?” Siryn repeated. She looked up at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Plan for what?”

“With Tom, obviously,” he said. “He has to die.”

“Think about what yer askin’ me to do, Deadpool.” Her accent was starting to slip through. “Even ignorin’ that ye have no right to decide when a person lives or dies, that man raised me as a daughter. He was there for me when me mum died. I can’t just stand there and watch you kill him.”

“Then don’t.” Deadpool got up from his seat and took one next to Siryn. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Just help me take him down, say your goodbyes, and leave. Then you can go right back to thinking he’s dead.”

“But I’d be lettin’ ‘im die,” she said. “Just like last time.”

Deadpool removed his hand from her shoulder and let his gaze fall to the ground. He wouldn’t lie to himself and say it was fair to her. The situation Siryn found herself in wasn’t a good one. It sucked. But life wasn’t very fair in the first place. So, all he could do was make it hurt a little less.

Suddenly, his phone rang. That made him jump a little, eliciting a small squeak form him. He dug around in his many pouches until he found the phone.

**We really should consider consolidating some of these pouches.**

_No way, dude! Pouches are an essential tool for any professional merc!_

**Okay, but do we really need a pouch for coupons specifically to the 7-11?**

_You never know, good sir._

“’Hollaback Girl’?” Siryn asked with a small smile.

“Hey, don’t disrespect the classics,” Deadpool chided lightly. At least she made fun of him. That was a start.

He took a look at the number. It was listed as “Unknown”. His eyes narrowed. He answered, “Deadpool here, professional birthday clown and mercenary for hire, in that order, how can I do you for?”

 _“Mr. Deadpool, it’s so good to hear from you,”_ the contractor for the job said. _“I was just calling for an update on the job. I expected at least some progress was made.”_

Siryn mouthed, “Who is it?”

Deadpool held up a finger, signaling to give him just a minute of time. “Oh, you know, the usual; Stopped for some tacos, took a jog in the park, got impaled by the man who murdered my wife, y’know, normal things like that.”

_“I see. So, you were able to find Tom?”_

“I was, yeah,” Deadpool replied. “He gave me the slip.”

_“That is quite unfortunate, Mr. Deadpool. I was hoping you would have been able to fulfil the job.”_

“Here’s the thing,” Deadpool continued. “He was looking for me, too. Now, I’m no mathema-whatever, but what’d you think the odds of that are?”

The voice went quiet. _“I’m not sure—”_

Deadpool interrupted him without hesitation. “Where is he, Killebrew?”

On the other end of the line, Dr. Killebrew didn’t even blink. _“So, you were able to deduce it was me, Mr. Wilson. How did you do that, I wonder?”_

“Through a very elaborate process that involves a monkey, three shots of whiskey, and a whole lot of LCD,” Deadpool said. Siryn couldn’t help but rub her temples. “That’s not the point. You set us both up. So, if you tell me where he is, Doc, I’ll put off your death for a tic, ‘kay?”

_“Very well. That’s actually why I called you. You see, Tom has a virus that only your blood can cure.”_

Deadpool and Siryn exchanged a look. “What kind of virus would that be, Doc?”

_“Do you really care?”_

“Not really,” he admitted easily. “What do you get out of helping Lucky Charms?” Siryn rolled her eyes at the comment.

_“Simple. The chance to study you again. I personally don’t care whether Tom lives or dies, but I do know either way, you’d leave enough blood and bits of yourself around for me to examine. It was a win-win for me.”_

“Might want to pump the cake-breaks, Doc,” Deadpool said. “Because once I’m done with Tom, I’m coming for you.”

Killebrew gave a noncommittal grunt on the other end of the phone before continuing. _“Yes. There’s a secret lab underneath the Sing Sing Correctional Facility. He’s been there with me.”_

“Really?” Deadpool looked towards the Hudson River. “You’re giving up your secret lair, just for little ol’ me?”

 _“Believe me, I have backups within backups. Besides, Tom already has the tools to take you down, now, even with your new friend.”_ Deadpool threw Siryn a thumbs up and a smile. _“There’s a secret entrance at the base, it should get you past all the guards. Remember to avoid all the cameras. Wouldn’t want to get caught while exacting your revenge, no?”_

With that, Killebrew hung up on his end of the line. Deadpool jumped to his feet. “Pack your things, Red. Looks like we’re taking a little trip outside of Alphabet City.”

“Who was that on the phone?” Siryn asked, also getting to her feet.

“The one man I hate more than Tom,” he replied. “That was the guy who really fucked me up.”

“What was his name?” she asked again.

“Doesn’t really matter,” Deadpool said. “He’s just another thing from my past I have to bury.”

Just as he started making his way towards the roof door of the building, Siryn called out, “You’re still hiding things.”

Deadpool looked back. “What’s that?”

“You’re not telling me who this is for starters,” Siryn said. “And you’ve yet to take that mask off.”

“So?”

“So, we’re never going to come to an understanding unless you tell me everything.” She stepped forward. “About you, about Weapon X, everything. And you can start with this.”

She reached for his mask, but Deadpool grabbed her wrist. “Trust me, Red, you’re better off not knowing what’s under this.”

The two locked eyes. Deadpool kept his iron grip on her wrist while she didn’t shy away. They stayed like that for a moment before he let her hand go. She turned to leave. “Then I guess this is where we part ways, Deadpool. I can just hope we don’t get in each other’s way.”

Just as she lifted off to fly, she heard Deadpool say, “Wade.”

“What?”

“Call me ‘Wade’, and I’ll help you take down Tom. Your way.”

She looked him over. “Truthfully? Why the sudden change in heart?”

He shrugged. “I’m thinking your right. I’m not exactly ready to show you this… handsome mug, but maybe bringing in Tom will be, y’know, cathartic?”

They didn’t say anything after that. Siryn just gave Deadpool a small smile, before lifting him up from below the shoulders and flying off.

_We’re totally lying about not killing Tom, right?_

**Oh, absolutely.**


	7. The Sins of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world, where one man must stand alone against the zombie hoard staring him down, Deadpool must continue his journey to bring possibly the only hope for a cure to a rendezvous halfway across the country. He and Evan have grown fond of one another, but when the secrets of Wade's past is revealed, that bond threatens to shatter.
> 
> Has this joke gotten old yet? Because I'm not going to stop.

An hour earlier…

“It’s done,” Dr. Killebrew proclaimed. He presented the syringe of bright orange liquid to his guest, Black Tom.

Tom took it and held it up to the light, not bothering to hide his skepticism. “Don’t look like much.”

“It isn’t, really,” Killebrew replied, taking off his lab coat. “That syringe will only grant you one hour of the advanced healing factor that Deadpool has.”

“An hour will be more than ‘nough time,” Tom said. “I got this off him last time.”

“True,” Killebrew admitted. “Just make sure you use it wisely. That’s the only dose I have.

“And he’s coming here?” Tom asked, still looking over the syringe.

The doctor nodded. “Oh, yes. You’ll be able to get the samples I need.”

“Don’t ye worry, Doc,” Tom said with a twisted smile. “I’ma rip him to pieces after what ‘e did ta me.”

* * *

Sing Sing Correctional Facility.

Beneath the world the public knows lies one of horrors, where the screams of human experiments fill the halls. Over the past century, the lower levels have ben converted and added upon, to hide the deranged things that happen below.

Today, though, the halls are silent, as most experiments have been shipped off to other locations or been pumped full of sedatives. The lead doctor was out for the day, so they were put on pause. However, guards still needed to patrol the halls. The prisoners had a habit of attempting to escape the horrific conditions.

Unlike the upper levels, which needed to meet certain standards and guidelines when it came to prisoner treatment, down here there were no such restrictions. Their cells were six feet by six feet, with the only contents given to the test subjects being a thing sheet and a bucket. For the record, the bucket was only replaced weekly.

Leaning against a corner, flipping through the pages of a magazine he swiped form a convenience store, was one of the guards, with a cigarette hung loosely in his mouth. The contents of the magazine didn’t really matter to him, it was just something to kill the time until one of the subjects tried to get out and he could have some real fun.

He let out a sigh and threw the magazine behind him and around the corner. It was always dull when the doctor was away, and this was no different. Couldn’t hear anybody scream. He rubbed his nose before he felt something poke his shoulder.

The guard turned around, only to be met with a fist punching straight through his helmet and knocking him out. As he and his cigarette were falling, a gloved hand caught it. Deadpool stepped out of the shadows of the corner, shaking his head slightly. 

He looked down at the guard and said, “These things will kill you, y’know.”

Siryn rounded the corner and put a finger to her lips. “Quiet, Wade,” she whispered. “We still have the element of surprise. Tom don’t know we’re here yet.”

Deadpool shrugged and let the cigarette drop onto the guard’s face. “Hey, all things considered, I’m being quiet as a mouse right now.” She had to admit, he was speaking quieter than usual.

The two kept moving through the halls as silently as they could, Deadpool making sure to keep his hand on as close to his many guns as possible. Right now, it was hovering a little bit over the shotgun he brought with. It was his favorite shotgun. He named it “Shotgun.”

**Maybe we should’ve kept that guy conscious. He could’ve told us where to go.**

“Wade, next time we run into someone, make sure to keep at least one awake,” Siryn spoke up behind Deadpool. “We need directions.”

**I like the way she thinks.**

“You would,” Deadpool muttered, as if he didn’t completely agree.

“What was that?”

Deadpool quickly said, “I should, you’re absolutely right.”

The hallway stopped and split into two different directions. Deadpool looked down both before saying, “I think we should split up and look for clues, gang.”

“Hold up, Fred,” Siryn said. “We need to stick together.”

_She got our Scooby-Doo reference!_

**Yes, because it’s such an obscure reference.**

“What, don’t trust me not to gut your uncle and turn him into a kebab?” Deadpool asked, holding his hand to his heart.

_Wait, isn’t that what we’re doing?_

**Shh! She doesn’t need to know that!**

“To be honest, not really,” Siryn admitted. She leaned against one of the walls and poked her head around. “If I went through what you did, I’m not sure I could stop myself either. So, I’m going to be there to be your anchor. To keep your word.”

“Remind me again _why_ killing Tom is a bad thing?” Deadpool asked as they turned to the right. “I wasn’t the only one at the facility, you know. I’m just the only one who decided to nut up and walk out the door.”

“It’s wrong because it is,” Siryn replied, giving him a stern look. “We have no right to be executioners, even for the lowest of the low.”

“What about Nazis?”

That gave Siryn some pause. “Huh?”

“Say I ran into some Nazis being Nazis,” Deadpool said. “Are you saying it would be wrong to kill them?”

She blinked. What kind of question was this? Finally, she stuttered out, “N-no, not even them.”

Deadpool studied her for a second before shrugging. “Can’t deny your conviction,” he granted.

They continued forward in silence for a few moments before Siryn stopped Deadpool and pressed both of them up against the wall. Deadpool let out a small squeak in surprise before noticing how close they were. He smiled beneath the mask, and said, “Look, Red, I appreciate the thought, but here? Now?”

Siryn ignored the burning of her cheeks and clamped a hand over his mouth. She leaned forward to glance around the corner. “There’s a reception area just up ahead. I count three guards. There’re probably more.”

Deadpool said something, but it was muffled by Siryn’s hand. She looked from the reception area back to the merc. “Make sure at least one of them can answer a question.” Deadpool nodded. “And no killing,” she stressed, eliciting a whine from him. She pointed a finger at him before lowering her hand.

“You are just no fun,” Deadpool said jokingly, cracking his knuckles. “Alright then. Let’s make a difference.”

They rounded the corner and, before any of the guards noticed, Siryn whispered, “You should cover your ears.”

He shot her a look. “Why?”

“Just trust me on this.”

Deadpool did as he was told, and Siryn let out a low, consistent whistle. Like a normal whistle, it caught the guards’ attention. Unlike a normal whistle, it caused them a searing, sharp pain. Most of them doubled over, clutching their heads. The sound of a gun dropping alerted her to a fourth person that she wasn’t able to count.

She held the whistle for ten seconds before stopping and nodding to Deadpool. He then cracked his neck before running forward. He dropped to his knees, sliding on them until he got to the closest guard. He knocked the legs out from under him, grabbing the assault rifle the guard was clutching. The merc quickly knocked him out with the but before throwing it across the room to another guard.

At this point, Siryn came flying in, smashing one of the guards into the wall, backing up, then delivering a strong kick across his face. She turned around and saw two more getting to their feet’s. Five total, with three already out. One raised a shaking arm, aiming for Siryn, but Deadpool threw the first man’s helmet into him.

The move distracted him long enough for Siryn to rush forward and deliver a flying kick into his abdomen. The guard was winded long enough for Deadpool to join, grabbing the last guard standing and grabbing his head in both hands, and bashing it against the wall a couple times. Siryn couldn’t help but give him a look at the brutality.

Deadpool shrugged. “What? He’ll live.”

The turned to the still conscious guard, recovering from the kick delivered to his chest. He coughed, still holding one hand to his ear, before Deadpool shoved him with his foot onto the ground. The merc climbed on top of him, pulled of the helmet, and brandished a knife.

“Hey, bud. What’s your name?”

The guard sputtered, struggling to get up, but Deadpool gripped his chin. He gave the guard’s cheek a few light slaps with the soft side of the knife before asking again. “C’mon, let’s hear that name. There can’t truly be a deep interrogator-interrogated relationship when one party doesn’t even give their own name. Here, let me show you.”

He pointed to Siryn. “Her name is Emma Stone, and my name is Sir Paddington Willingham the Third. Now, it’s your turn.” She rolled her eyes, but found herself smiling anyway.

“M-My name’s—” the guard started to say, but Deadpool interrupted, saying, “That’s great, #256, really, but how’s about the three of us play a little game of _Jeopardy!_ , yeah? How’d you feel about that, Emma?”

“I think that sounds like a helluva time, Sir Paddington,” Siryn replied, deciding to play along with Deadpool’s game.

“Now, like the normal game, I’m going to give you a phrase, and you’re going to respond in the form of a question. Following me so far?” The guard nodded. “Good. Unlike the normal game, if you get it wrong, you don’t get docked points, or whatever, but instead, I’m going to beat you. A lot. And don’t let the pretty looks fool you, Emma Stone ain’t gonna help you.”

Not entirely the truth, Siryn thought to herself. She wouldn’t let Deadpool actively kill the man, but roughing him up a bit was necessary. If a little cruel. So she just didn’t say anything, and hoped her discomfort didn’t show.

“Ready to begin? Great!” Deadpool leaned closer. “’Tom is in this room.’”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” the guard spat out. In return, Deadpool delivered a swift punch to the face. The added mass of the knife handle made the punch land that much harder.

The merc shrugged. “Since the rules of _Jeopardy!_ can be a little confusing, I’m gonna let you off with a light warning. Now, try again, and mean it this time. I’ll even restate the phrase in a way that might help; ‘Killebrew is keeping Tom in this specific room’. Does that help?”

The guard looked between Deadpool and Siryn. Based on his look of panic, he believed she was just going to stand by and watch. “Down the hall, up the stairs, it’ll be the room that says experimentation room.”

Deadpool looked back at Siryn, who nodded in affirmation. The merc delivered another, heavier punch, knocking the guard out. “Sorry, that wasn’t in the form of a question,” he said to the air, replacing the knife in its sheath. “Good guess though.”

He nodded at Siryn and they hurried off towards the door. They almost made it to the stairway when Deadpool skidded to a halt in front of a door. Siryn stopped and looked back. What on Earth was he doing?

“Wade?” she called out. “Are you alright?”

He was stood stock still, staring at the sign. She stepped over and gave it a look. It just read, “Killebrew.”

She touched him on the shoulder. “Wade, who’s Killebrew?”

“An old friend,” he said absently. “Excuse me, Red, but I’ve got a candy gram I need to deliver.”

As he reached for the door, Siryn stepped in front of him. “I don’t know what that man has done to ye, but I need ye here, focused. For all we know, this ‘Killebrew’ isn’t here, but Tom is! And we can stop him.”

Deadpool looked down at her. “Move.”

The harshness of his voice took her aback. She had only heard it directed towards her when she first properly met him, but considering the circumstances, it was hardly surprising. But there was no softness here, like when the two were on the rooftop, nor was there any cheerfulness, like there was the rest of the time.

There was just anger and hatred. More than even for Tom.

“Wade,” she said. “I want to help ye, but Tom’s the priority here.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Even beneath the mask, she could tell Deadpool was struggling with the decision. He looked down the hall, towards the stairs, and then back at the door. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to know.”

“Then ye go alone, Wade,” she said sadly.

He nodded softly before gently pushing past her. As he walked through the door, he gave her one last look before closing it behind him. Siryn gave a soft sigh. “Damnit, Wade,” she muttered under her breath, before rushing towards the stairs.

She followed the directions the guard had given her to another door, labeled “Laboratory 001”. As she reached for the handle, she froze. It came crashing down on her exactly what she was getting into. It’s been so long since she had seen Tom.

When they last saw each other, Tom was giving his life to protect her. Now, she had to take him down and brink him back to Genosha. There was a strange pit in her stomach that she couldn’t quite shake. Beforehand, she hadn’t thought about it too much.

Was the shock that not only was Tom alive, but he was the person she was supposed to bring in wearing off? There was a battle going on in her mind. She was thinking back to the time they spent together, and what the torture that he put Deadpool through.

She didn’t want to believe Deadpool. By all rights, she shouldn’t. He was hardly what one would call mentally sound and had no evidence to back up his claims. And yet, there was this conviction in his voice, the utter brokenness to it… it had swayed her. She believed him.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The room itself wasn’t the largest. She would have to be careful about her powers here, lest she bring down the whole facility. There were tables lined up neatly in two rows of three, with various scientific equipment such as beakers, vials, tubes, and the like. Truthfully, it looked like these belong in some old science fiction movie, rather than a genuine lab.

And across the room, there he was.

Hunched over a desk. His back was towards her. It didn’t seem like he knew she was there. He was muttering to himself, although she couldn’t make out what, and clutching his left arm. She took a few tentative steps closer.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she could see the root-like growths on him. She didn’t get a clear look when she saved Deadpool, but here it was clear how much pain they were causing him. They were mostly focused on his left side, but the right arm looked to be affected as well from the elbow down. His hair was longer than she remember, falling to about his shoulders, and about as ragged as the rest of him look.

“Tom…” she breathed.

Suddenly, Tom whipped around, staring at her with his mouth hung open and his eyes as wide as saucers, still breathing heavily. Siryn flinched back. The left side of Tom’s face was covered with the growth as well, darkening the left eye in shadow.

“Terry,” he said, regaining a little bit of composure. He regarded her sadly. “Ye should’ve stayed away.”

She had a lot of questions for Tom. What he was doing with Killebrew, how he stayed alive, why he was on the X-Men’s radar, what twisted things did Weapon X have him do. But the one she found herself asking, the one that she had been caring with her for so long;

“Why did you leave me?” she asked, feeling the catch in her throat.

He looked away from her. “I-I couldn’t come back to ye. Not like this.”

“What happened? You got swallowed by that crowd, and-and you just disappeared,” she stammered. Her composure was breaking down. Try as all the X-Men training in the world might, when confronted with the man who raised her from birth, who was willing to die for her, she couldn’t concentrate.

“Ye shouldn’t’ve come ‘ere,” Tom said sadly. “I do nae want to hurt ye.”

“T-Then surrender,” she said, trying to control her raging emotions right now. It was a swarm of memories, of sadness, of relief, of confusion. But little by little, she could feel herself steeling against it. “No one has ta be hurt here.”

“I don’t wish to hurt ye, Terry. But I will not let you stop me.”

“Stop you from what?” she asked. “What are you even doin’ here?”

“I need that bastard’s blood,” he said, referring to Deadpool.

“I’m sick, Terry. When they pulled me carcass from whateva hole that mob left me in, they healed me with this shite,” he said, motioning to the growths. “It made me so much stronger, but what they did nae tell me was this shite would give me a fucking virus!” He whipped around and smashed his fist onto the desk with such force, it completely shattered it.

Siryn stepped forward tentatively. “Give yourself up,” she said again. “We have great doctors in Genosha. Hank McCoy could perhaps make a cure.”

“And then what?” he demanded. “I spend the rest of me life in a fucking cell?” He shook his head. “No. I won’t do that. I can’t. I don’t deserve that.”

“Tom, I know what you did for Weapon X,” Siryn said bluntly.

Tom didn’t respond. He just waited for Siryn to continue.

“Even before you left, I knew what you did to get our money. I was able to look past it, because you did it for me. But what you did? And don’t lie to me and say Deadpool was the only one in that program. Don’t tell me you ‘don’t deserve it’. You’re lucky I don’t let Deadpool have his way. He wants to kill you, and I won’t lie; I was sorely tempted to let him.”

“So, that’s how it is, then?” Tom asked.

Feeling her earlier confusion and wave of emotions vanish, she readied herself. “That’s how it is.”

He nodded. Then, without another wasted second, threw a fireball at her. She expertly dodged it, flying into him as fast as she could. They crashed into the wall, knocking the wind out of Tom’s lungs, before Siryn grabbed hold of his arm and used her whole body as leverage to flip him over her shoulder. He slammed into the wooden pile left by the shattered desk.

It didn’t leave much of an effect on him, as he threw another fireball at her from the ground. Again, she avoided it, causing it to detonate on the ceiling. But this allowed Tom to get to his feet, as he threw out two more. She ran straight for the projectiles, ducking below the first, and trying to move aside for the second.

She was just an instant too slow, however, as it clipped her side. She was thrown off course, unable to follow up with an offensive move. This allowed Tom to grab her by the arm and throw her across the room. She slammed into one of the tables, causing the glass vials and beakers to fall, shattering on the floor. She felt some small shards cut into her hand, but she didn’t let that distract her.

Siryn recovered enough to send a small sonic scream towards Tom. It was controlled enough to act as little more than a concussive blast, sending Tom flying back. He crashed into the wall with enough force to leave a small dent, but he recovered near instantly, pushing against the wall and launching himself towards Siryn.

She avoided the punch that Tom threw, then grabbed his arm and sent an open palm strike up into his chin. His head snapped backwards, before she followed it up with a kick to the gut sending him back a few passes.

Taking the time to take a breath, she tried to follow it up with another sonic scream, but Tom recovered near instantly, grabbing her by the throat. He pulled her closer, snarling, “I told ye.”

He whirled around, throwing her across the room. She crashed into one of the tables, toppling it and its contents. Siryn clutched her chest, but she didn’t have time to think on the pain. The sound of Tom charging up another fireball came to her, so she quickly got up and vaulted over the table. But the wooden furnishing only offered so much protection, so when the fireball slammed into the table, is exploded in pieces and causing her to scream in pain.

Tom stomped forward, grabbing hold one of the larger pieces of table leftover, and threw it off of her. He crouched down and put both hands around her neck. “I didn’t want to hurt ye, but ye left me no fuckin’ choice!”

Siryn tried to something, but it only came out as a cough.

“When ye wake up, never come after me again. If ye do, I can’t promise ye’ll walk away.”

The darkness was creeping into her vision. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. She couldn’t scream, only watch the man who raised her from birth, the man who would dote on her, try to choke the life out of her.

Tom kept one hand on her neck and raised a fist, preparing to knock Siryn out. But he was stopped when a blade plunged through his chest.

He let go of Siryn and grabbed hold of the blade. The X-Man looked through her haze to see Deadpool poke his head out from behind Tom. The merc shouted, in an exaggerated Irish accent, “Top of the mornin’ to ye, Tom!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay on this one. It was finals this weeks, plus Vergil came out on Tuesday, so I was obviously playing that basically nonstop when I wasn't doing schoolwork. On the plus side, it came out much longer than I expected. So have some extra meaty goodness, with a side of Deadpool! Or, a nice plant-based burger! I don't know you're diet, I am not, and this is true, you.
> 
> Anyway, we are rapidly approaching the endgame to the first story arc in this little fic. I might break them up into all separate fics, but I'd rather keep them all in one. Let me know what you guys think! Tune in next time for Deadpool and Tom's climatic showdown!


End file.
